


Star Wars: Remnants

by PlagueOfCrows



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Order 66, Post-Order 66, Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Seduction to the Dark Side
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-06-07 09:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15216188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueOfCrows/pseuds/PlagueOfCrows
Summary: In the midst of the Clone Wars, Jedi Knight Bron Lay returns to the Jedi Order from self-imposed exile. Immediately assigned a Padawan, Bron struggles to find her place in an Order ravaged by war.





	1. Return

The ship settled on the landing pad with a shudder, sunlight glinting off its facade. The boarding deck lowered with a hiss. A tall, pale shape emerged from the ship’s interior, descending the boarding ramp with long strides. As the Kaminoan stepped from underneath the ship’s shadow, she looked up to the sun, raising a three-fingered hand to shade her eyes from the glare. She narrowed her eyes, lowering her gaze to take in the lanes of fast-moving ships and the surrounding towers that covered Coruscant’s surface. Her posture, tense, eased as she turned back to the landing pad. Her gaze settled on the single figure standing on the landing pad—a small figure with green skin and particularly large ears, standing with the aid of a wooden cane.

“Master Yoda!” the Kaminoan said, eyes widening at the sight of the Grand Master. “I did not expect you to be here for my arrival.”

“Wanted to see you first, I did,” Master Yoda said, tilting his head as he looked up at the tall Kaminoan. “Escort you to the Council, I will.”

The Kaminoan glanced downwards, pressing her thin lips together. “I truly hope I haven’t caused a stir.”

“Complicated times, these are,” Master Yoda said. “A great threat, the Clone Wars pose. Need you, we do.”

“I will not abandon the Order again.”

“Believe you, I do.” Master Yoda lifted his walking stick. “But difficult to convince, the others may be.”

The Kaminoan nodded, her black eyes wide and her mouth set in a hard line.

“With me, walk,” Master Yoda said. “Much to discuss, we have.”

The Kaminoan followed the Grand Jedi Master, though kept a half pace behind him. She folded her hands before her and bowed her neck. They headed inside the Jedi Temple, and the Kaminoan stole a quick glance around her.

“Taught you much, your journey did?” Master Yoda asked, cocking his head to look up at her.

“Yes, Master,” the Kaminoan said. “I focused on meditation and strengthening my connection with the Force.”

“Much time to reflect, you have had?”

“Yes, Master,” the Kaminoan said.

“Enjoy yourself amongst your people, you did?”

The Kaminoan looked away. She curled her fingers tighter together. “My people were . . . not what I expected.”

“In life, many things are not what they appear to be,” Master Yoda said. He paused as they reached the turbolift, and motioned for the Kaminoan to enter the lift with him. The doors slid shut and the lift began to move upwards. Several beats passed in silence before the Kaminoan spoke, her words hurried.

“Master, I . . . I want to apologize. For all of it.”

“In the past, it is.”

“But Master—”

“Learn from it, you must. Grow from it, you will.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Trust in yourself, you must.”

The Kaminoan nodded. The lift’s ascent slowed and the doors slid open to reveal a wide, circular room. Sunlight streamed in through massive windows that lined the outer perimeter. A circle of twelve chairs were arranged around the room, and each was filled by a member of the Jedi High Council.

The Kaminoan took in a sharp breath. She had tried to prepare herself to face the Council, but even now she felt her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to back out of the room, but it was far too late. Already the gazes of several members of the Council had alighted on the Kaminoan, and she wished she could vanish.

“To the center, you go,” Master Yoda said, heading for his own chair. The Kaminoan stepped into the very center of the room. She could feel the eyes of all the Jedi Masters on her. She recognized some of them, such as Masters Windu and Mundi, and noted that the Togruta Shaak Ti and the Nautolan Kit Fisto had taken up seats since the last time she had seen the Council. There were two new humans who she did not recognize, one of whom was giving her a hard stare from beneath a deeply furrowed, scarred brow and the other who regarded her with interest as he stroked his beard.

“The Jedi High Council calls this meeting to order.” It was Master Windu who spoke, his voice level and his gaze fixed upon the Kaminoan. “Jedi Knight Bron Lay has contacted us and requested to be reinstated as a Knight of the Jedi Order.”

“She abandoned the Order.” One of the humans spoke, the one who was giving her a hard glare. “She was irresponsible and failed in her duties as a Jedi. Have you forgotten what she did prior to her abandonment?”

“Master Skywalker, be patient. The Council will want to hear Bron Lay’s account.” This was said by the bearded human, who leaned forward as he spoke.

“Let us hear her story before we pass judgment,” Master Koon agreed. Bron looked at him, but his expression—masked by a rebreather and goggles—was unreadable.

Master Windu nodded. “Bron Lay, you left the Order but have suddenly come out of hiding. Why do you wish to rejoin the Order you once abandoned?”

The Kaminoan closed her eyes for a moment and gathered her words. She knew this question would come, and had spent the time between Kamino and Coruscant planning her words. Yet, she still felt that anything she could say would be insufficient. But she had to say _something_.

She opened her eyes, and slowly let her gaze rest on each of the Council members as she spoke.

“During my time away from the Order, I learned many things and reflected upon my past actions. It is true that I was cowardly, and ran from what I should have faced. My failures weigh heavily on my shoulders, but my flight from the Order is what burdens me most. I failed in my duties as a Jedi Knight.” She paused. “I come before the Council acknowledging my mistakes and my betrayal. But during my exile, I remained loyal to the Jedi Code and the ways of the Force. I spent my exile strengthening my connection with the Force, and it was the Force that led me to the conclusion that I needed to return. I knew the Clone Wars were taking a toll on the Jedi Order, and I knew I needed to aid the Order once again.”

Bron’s gaze settled on the scowling Master Skywalker before facing Master Windu. “I beg the Council’s forgiveness and wish nothing more than to serve the Order once again. I humble myself before your judgment.”

As her words faded into silence, she risked a glance around the room. A couple of the Council members were nodding, while a couple leaned their heads on their hands, their brows furrowing. Several of their expressions were unreadable. Bron’s gaze flicked to Master Koon again, and then to Master Yoda. Master Yoda gave the slightest nod.

“With clear direction, you speak,” Master Yoda said. “Learned from your failures, you have.”

“She could be a spy.” It was Master Skywalker. He watched Bron with narrowed eyes. “Why come to us now?”

“That’s a harsh accusation, Master Skywalker,” Master Windu said.

“It is a logical one, however,” Master Mundi said. “We do not know if another has swayed Lay’s loyalty in this convoluted time.”

“My loyalty lies with the Order, and with the Force.” Bron spoke suddenly, and then clamped her mouth shut. “Forgive me for speaking so abruptly, Masters.”

“The right to defend yourself, you have,” Master Yoda said. “Pass judgment, shall we?”

“Let us vote,” Master Windu said. “Those in favor of Bron Lay’s reinstatement as a Jedi Knight?”

Hands slid into the air. Bron remained frozen, not daring to turn and see how many votes there were. Masters Windu and Yoda raised their hands, and a swift glance to her right showed Master Koon had voted in her favor as well. Masters Mundi and Skywalker did not raise their hands, and she feared that those out of her range of vision might not have moved, either.

Several unbearable beats of silence passed before Master Windu spoke. “There are eight in favor. Bron Lay, we grant you the rank of Jedi Knight. We welcome you back, Master Lay.”

Bron felt her tense body suddenly relax, and she swayed slightly before planting her feet firmly on the floor.

“Thank you, Masters. I will not fail in my duties again.”

“This Council meeting is adjourned,” Master Windu said.

Bron dropped her gaze and quickly stepped to the side of the room.

“Master Lay,” came the voice of Yoda. Bron looked down to where the Jedi Master stood.

“With me, walk,” he ordered for the second time.

They stepped into the lift and headed down. Out of sight of the Council, Bron felt a sense of freedom settle over her.

“Your old quarters, you will find in order,” Master Yoda said. “Now, an assignment, I have for you.”

“Yes, Master?”

“A Padawan, you will be assigned.”

Bron felt her heart skip a beat. Her eyes widened incredulously. “M-Master?”

“What you have learned from your journey, you will now teach.”

“Master, I . . . are you certain? Does the Council truly trust me?”

“Trust you, _I_ do. From the past, you have learned.”

“I . . . I will do my best, Master.”

Master Yoda stopped in front of a closed doorway and looked up at Bron. “Awaiting, your Padawan is.”

“Thank you, Master. I will not let you down.”

Master Yoda nodded and headed up the corridor. Bron watched him go, feeling unease settle in her chest. Clearly Master Yoda had expected her to be accepted back into the Order, because he’d already had a Padawan waiting. And his answer about the Council agreeing to it sounded . . . odd. She couldn’t fathom why the Council would have assigned her a Padawan after her previous failures. It almost felt like a cruel joke. But she trusted Master Yoda and his great wisdom, so she steeled herself and turned to the door. She knocked.

The door opened almost immediately. Bron looked down on the figure standing before her—a young Kel Dor, wearing the typical rebreather mask and goggles and sporting traditional Padawan robes.

“Are you the Knight I’ve been assigned to?” the Padawan asked. The voice was light, and carried a breathy note of excitement.

“Yes,” Bron said. “My name is Bron Lay.”

“Master Lay.” The Kel Dor bowed respectfully, and then looked back up. “My name is Nad Del.”

“I am pleased to meet you,” Bron said.

“Are we going to begin training?” The enthusiasm in the Padawan’s voice was obvious.

“I wish to attend to a few matters before we begin. I have just returned from . . . a long journey,” Bron said. “But please, keep your skills sharp. Do you meditate?”

“Yes, I was just meditating when I sensed your arrival.”

“Then perhaps a change of pace. Go to the sparring hall. I will find you there.”

“Yes, Master Lay.” The Padawan hurried past her and nearly ran down the passageway. Bron watched her new Padawan. She wanted to smile at the enthusiasm the young Kel Dor showed, but a shadow of unease made her look away. She had seen this enthusiasm before, and remembering those who had shown it made her heart ache. She gave her head a slight shake and pushed the feelings away.

Bron turned and headed down the corridor. She wove her way through several passageways and stopped in front of her old quarters. Taking a breath, she opened the door and slipped inside.

It was dark. The only light came from a thin window that ran across the top of back wall. Her sleeping mat was on the floor, and a small table sat next to it. It looked just as she remembered.

Her gaze alighted on two objects sitting atop the table. She reached for them, and then stopped.

They were lightsaber hilts. But not just any lightsabers. No, she had seen these two before, crossed her own blade with them. They were the two lightsabers that had once belonged to two young, eager trainees. And she had failed them. First one, then the other. And now there was a third, just as young and eager.

Bron let her fingertips brush lightly against the hilts. No, she would not fail Nad Del. She would be certain she saw the Padawan to the rank of Jedi Knight. She would not add a third abandoned lightsaber to her collection.

Straightening, she turned back to the door and went in search of an old friend.

 


	2. Directive

Lesh Koon paused before a set of sleek obsidian doors. She raised a fist, but paused and took a moment to brush dust from her coat and pants. She smoothed her tunic and adjusted the collar of her coat. Satisfied, she raised her hand again and knocked on the door.

The doors slid opened with a slight hiss, and she stepped inside. The room was very dark despite the fact that it was daylight outside, with heavy shades pulled across the large, panoramic windows lining the room. The din of Coruscant’s bustling skies was still audible, however. The Kel Dor squinted through her goggles into the dim light, able to make out the silhouettes of three chairs around a small table in the center of the room. Two were occupied.

“Captain Lesh Koon.” The voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

Lesh turned to the speaker with a small bow. “Mi’m. Good to see you.”

Another voice, tinged with a surly, nasal accent, rang out much louder than the first voice. “Oh, but wesa mui mui pleasa to see yousa. Pleasa, sit.”

Lesh stepped forward and seated herself in the empty chair. Facing her was a Gungan, dressed in flowing silk robes and sporting several gleaming pieces of gold jewelry that glittered against his purple skin. He stroked his whiskers thoughtfully as Lesh sat down before pouring two drinks of bluish liquid and offering one to Lesh. Lesh accepted the drink, although her mask prevented her from taking a sip. But she knew it was more about the gesture than the act.

The other seat was taken by a Bith in a sleek black suit. She gave the barest of nods to Lesh, her composure formal and her appearance minimal in contrast to the lavish and boisterous Gungan.

The Bith, Mi'm, spoke. “Your departing and returning flights were spectacular. Your speed is unmatched by any of our other crews.”

“Thank you, Mi’m.”

“Yousa encounter any trouble?”

“A small band of pirates tried to stop us as we neared the delivery point. My gunman Shkag shot them out of the sky. The client was quite pleased, as several previous shipments had been intercepted. That will be one less pirating vessel to hassle us in the future.”

“Oyl, moole, moole. Yousa work isa bombad!” The Gungan, Callonks, spilled a few drops of his drink in his excitement, and moved to pour another.

“And we received the client's payment that you collected. As usual, it was all in order. Here is your portion of the agreed-upon payment.” Mi'm leaned forward and placed a slim metallic case in Lesh’s outstretched hands. Lesh flipped the lid open, running her largest claw across the tightly packed rows of credits. She knew they were all there, just as she knew her that employers knew they never needed to worry about her running off with the payments she collected for their shipments. Again, it was the gesture, not the act. She closed the case and tucked it inside her coat.

"Wesa has another job per yousa,” Callonks said. He lifted his refilled glass to his lips, waving at Mi’m to continue.

“Tomorrow we will have a full shipment of our newest line of blasters ready to go. They should fetch a high price from those trying to get ahead in the Outer Rim.”

Lesh bowed her head. “We would be happy to carry the shipment safely to its destination and collect payment for it.”

“I am pleased to hear it. I will send the shipment to your ship as soon as it is delivered from the factories. If you can complete the ordeal in less than thirty parsecs, there may be an extra incentive."

“My crew will not let you down.”

“Yousa never has,” Callonks said with a smile.

“Make sure you keep it that way.” Mi’m inclined her head.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Lesh said, standing and placing her untouched drink on the table. She bowed deeply, first to Mi'm and then to Callonks. Callonks took a drink with one hand and waved her away with another. Lesh retreated from the dark room. As the doors shut behind her, she took a deep breath of the stale air in her mask. She knew her crew could handle the mission, and she meant every word she had said to the two merchants. But these meetings, with their strict formality and structured performance, always made her anxious. She would rather fight off a squad of bounty hunters than participate in the elaborate upper-class corporate dance.

“How’d it go?”

Lesh looked up as a dark shape dropped from the ceiling.

“Shkag, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“No one saw me. What happened in there?”

“Same thing as always. A bit of praise for a job well done, and another assignment. We’ll set off for the Outer Rim tomorrow.”

“Where’s my share?”

Lesh tilted her head and crossed her arms. “You never let me distract you from what really matters.”

The Lurmen held out a hand, wiggling her fingers in anticipation with her yellow eyes fixed on Lesh. Lesh pulled out the box and opened it, gathering the top layer of credits in her clawed hand. She held it out to the Lurmen, who grabbed it and hastily shoved the loot into a pouch on her belt.

“Can I have Ekun’s share?” the Lurmen asked.

“Unfortunately, I think he’s still sober enough to know when he hasn’t been paid,” Lesh said.

“Oh well. I’ll swindle it off him in sabacc later tonight.”

“If he doesn’t spend it at a bar before then. He’s still on thin ice after the last incident. Speaking of which, you’re supposed to be watching him.”

“Oh don’t worry, I got someone else to watch him!”

“Who?”

“Leap.”

“Blast it, Shkag!”

“Hey, you didn’t specify who needed to watch him.”

Lesh tucked the box of credits in her coat and scowled at the Lurmen. She wasn’t particularly surprised, of course—the Lurmen would dutifully take on any task involving blasters and guns, but often slacked off with any other job. That included watching Ekun, who had probably wandered off and gotten himself high, or drunk, or both.

“Come on, let’s get back to the _Cordovan_ ,” Lesh said, turning with a sweep of her rust-colored coat. She headed up the high-ceilinged passageway, Shkag keeping pace beside her. Lesh straightened her posture as they came out into a wider area. The space opened onto a dock where several ships were settled. Cargo boxes lined the dock and workers and droids were busy loading them onto vessels. A couple of the workers called out to Lesh as she passed, and she nodded to them.

They headed for a small ship docked near the edge of the loading bay, where it was quieter. As soon as Lesh stepped onto the open boarding ramp, a frantic patter of metal footsteps sounded from inside. A small silver LEP servant droid with pink-plated sides appeared.

“Master! Oh, master Lesh! I’m sorry, I tried to watch him, but he left and I couldn’t stop him, but I couldn’t just leave the ship, and—”

Lesh dropped into a crouch, putting a hand on the servant droid’s head between the two ear-like transmitters. “Leap, it’s okay.”

Beside her, Shkag made a sound of irritation. “That’s not what you said when you—”

“Shkag, hush. We’re going to go find Ekun. You take the upper quarter, and I’ll take the lower. Hopefully he’ll be in one of his usual spots."

“Fine,” Shkag said, her face twisting into an unpleasant glower.

“Leap, stay with the ship and close it up. Put these credits somewhere secure. We’ll be back later.”

“Yes, master Lesh!” The droid took the box of credits and bounded away, and Lesh stepped off the boarding ramp as it began to close back up.

“This is the last time I leave Ekun unattended,” Lesh said, though she knew it was a lie. “Come on, Shkag, let’s go.”


End file.
